Anne Palumbo: The 'cleavage-ing' of America

Apparently, I am the only woman in America who is not afraid to speak out against an eye-popping trend that is plunging our country into a flustered state.

Anne Palumbo

Apparently, I am the only woman in America who is not afraid to speak out against an eye-popping trend that is plunging our country into a flustered state.

What’s more, it also looks like I may be part of a vanishing group who has yet to embrace it or yield to it or – gee, I don’t know – use it to my advantage?

OK, fine. I will courageously tackle a subject – or, better I should say, a couple of subjects – that no one else dares to broach.

I’m talking cleavage here.

When everything is said and done, I do hope you come away from today’s column feeling somewhat uplifted.

First, some fascinating background information:

Broadly speaking, cleavage was invented by Howard Hughes, the famed movie producer and aviation pioneer. One slow day, while polishing his Congressional Gold Medal – a prestigious medal he was given in l939 for advancing science in aviation – he had an epiphany.

Soon after – thanks to a team of aeronautics engineers he pulled from some piddly war project – fashion history was made with the advent of the underwire push-up bra and its bodacious outcome: cleavage.

True story.

Since that time, cleavage has been gaining speed at an alarming rate. Although once the exclusive domain of Hollywood starlets, cleavage has been up for grabs for quite some time – starting in the late ‘50s with a tasteful evening-gown presence, building in the mid-70s with a spirited outdoor-concert presence, and peaking in today’s society with a brazen omnipresence that has staked its claim, day and night.
Holy pumpkin patch, it’s everywhere!

Me? Call me a prude with a penchant for button-ups, but I can’t get comfortable with daytime cleavage. Although I try to be open-minded and embrace the notion that it takes a confident woman to expose her Great Divide during business hours – and confidence is good! – I can’t get past how much more provocative daytime cleavage strikes me. And if it’s rattling me, a woman, well, I don’t even want to think about what it’s doing to a man.

What I’m trying to say, sisters, is that America is headed for a Giant Heart Attack if we don’t cool it. So let’s all agree to give it a rest, or “them” a rest, or whatever it is we want to arrest, and show a little compassion during working hours. It’s just too darn distracting. Our dollar can’t sink any lower in the world-wide market, okay? Are you getting my drift? Then let me clarify it with this well-known Einsteinian equation:
Cleavage + daylight = diminished concentration in the opposite sex 2.

Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. Next week: Male cleavage, how to create it with a heavy tool belt, and the elixir Howard Hughes invented to revive those inadvertently exposed.